


Night

by Crickette



Series: The Storm Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry Potter, Boys Kissing, Drarry, Established Relationship, I wish I had a Molly Weasley afghan, Kreacher was fun to write, M/M, Married Couple, Rimming, Storm - Freeform, Thunderstorms, Top Draco Malfoy, making new memories, mentions of past childhood bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crickette/pseuds/Crickette
Summary: Harry wakes from an old nightmare and Draco comforts him. Together they make new memories to replace the old bad ones.





	Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgan_Elektra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Elektra/gifts).



> This series began as a prompt in my writing group. I wanted to make a vignette of a single night and a single storm. I wrote two stories, one for each of my favourite fandoms. (Sherlock and Harry Potter)
> 
> This story was beta by the amazing Morgan! Her Drarry stories are everything I love about this fandom, and I am pleased she helped me make this the story that I am sharing with you now. I humbly gift this to her with all the love and respect that I have in my heart. I am so honoured she's my SL. So I offer this smutty evening in thanks for all that you do. Which is a lot!

 

 *******  
  
  
  


The rain started at dinner and picked up steadily all night. Light rain had lulled him to sleep, his forehead resting on Draco’s shoulder. It was the thunder that woke Harry with a heart-pounding start. Tendrils of nightmare threaded through his mind like cobwebs. He shook his head to brush them away and took a deep breath. Gingerly, he pulled the soft, dove grey duvet back so he could sneak downstairs for some chamomile tea. He didn't want to wake Draco, who slept huddled under the thick woollen cable knit afghan Molly had made them last Christmas. While Draco bemoaned Harry’s lack of aesthetic and took over decorating their home. He always managed to cuddle under that afghan each night.

 

Harry swung his feet off the bed and slid them into the squishy golden lion slippers that Draco had given him as a joke several years ago. They made a soft mewling sound, like a kitten. He stood and looked over at his love. Draco laid on his side, curled slightly, his hair shiny silver in the dim light. His face was relaxed, the usual half smirk of sarcastic amusement gone. Watching him sleep caused a tender ache in Harry’s heart. He pulled the covers back up so Draco wouldn't feel the chill that had settled into the room. He plucked his glasses off the nightstand and tip-toed down the hallway, to the stairs, and into the sitting room.

 

The front windows lit up as lightning flashed across the sky.

 

“One hippogriff, two hippogriff, three…” The booming thunder shook the glass.

 

Harry suppressed a shudder as he rubbed his arms. It was better to pretend he was cold then to admit to himself that he was a grown man unsettled by thunder. He knelt at the fireplace and muttered a charm to get it roaring. He had left his wand upstairs; he couldn't remember the last time he did that. Ten years from the war and he still felt naked without it. A testament to how affected he was by the dream, and the storm. He couldn’t remember the last time a squall had awoken him with this particular nightmare..

 

There was a pop of the house elf apparating, making Harry lurch back.

 

“Kreacher is sorry, Master Harry. Kreacher heard you stomping around.” The small house elf stood in the doorway wearing a pressed green and silver tea towel.

 

“I wasn't stomping, Kreacher. It's the storm. Please go upstairs and get my wand. Quietly. Don't wake Draco.”

 

With a slight wheeze, the elf disappeared with a crack. Harry ran his hand through his bedraggled hair. Sleep made half of it lay flat while the other half stood up in messy spikes.  Harry navigated the short journey to the kitchen in the dim light cast from the fire. Kreacher beat him to it with his wand.

 

“Stop showing off.” Harry gave the elf a small smile and took his wand. “You can go back to sleep; I'm going to make some tea.”

 

“Kreacher can make it faster, Sir, and with less mess.”

 

Harry's watched as the tea tray sailed through the air and onto the table.

 

“No, no. I want to. You go back to bed. I'm all right.” Harry picked the kettle from the stove and filled it at the sink.

 

“Yes, Master Harry.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he summoned Harry's favourite mug and a plate of Harry’s favourite bourbon cream biscuits onto the tray.

 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry arranged everything to his satisfaction. Molly had taught him several spells to do these things instantly, but it relaxed him as he waited for the kettle to whistle.

 

The kitchen filled with lightning, the rolling boom of thunder followed directly after. Harry tried to suppress the flinch but couldn't.

 

“You should've woken me.” Draco’s sleep-tinged voice called from the sitting room.

 

“Why should we both be awake?” Harry pulled down the mug with green Pygmy puffs on it. Draco loved to hate it.

 

With tea tray floating in front of him, Harry padded into the sitting room. Draco sprawled on the couch under another Molly Weasley homemade blanket. This one was done in shades of greys and creams. It was Draco’s favourite lap blanket. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

 

“I detest this mug.” Draco picked it up, huffed a breath across the hot tea, and closed his eyes.

 

“I think you secretly love it.”

 

Harry’s cup currently had a calm summer day on it, the wildflowers blooming little white flowers that blew gently with a breeze. Luna had given it to him and it showed a scene to represent whatever the person drank. There was an unspoken rule in the house that coffee was no longer allowed in the mug. The first cup of coffee had been okay. The scene had been a little hectic. However, by the third, the porcelain had started to tremble.

 

On one occasion, the mug had held wine. Harry smiled at the memory of the little, drunk squirrel that had stumbled around his mug for a bit.

 

“Will you ever tell me why you hate storms so much?” Draco lifted the blanket so Harry could climb under with him. They stretched out on the couch pressed chest to chest, thigh to thigh, legs tangled. The fire roared behind Harry, the logs crackled and hissed as the rain continued to pour and some managed to make it down the chimney.

 

“It's just old memories. I don't know why I’m bothered by it.” Harry brushed his nose against Draco’s pointy one.

 

“The war?” Draco’s voice sounded tight. He probably assumed all Harry’s nightmares were about the war.

 

“No. I don't like storms because of something that happened when I was little. Five years old or so.” Harry debated telling Draco; he didn't want pity, and he wasn't sure what good would come from it.

 

“Tell me, Potter.” Draco’s warm hand gently cupped Harry’s bristly jaw. Gray eyes searched his face, imploring him to share a part of himself.

 

“When I lived with my mum's family, I don’t remember when that started, me sleeping in the cupboard. I just always stayed in there. I had a little cot and a few lead soldiers that my cousin didn't play with anymore. He probably didn't know that I had them, or else he’d have taken them.”

 

Harry felt Draco wrap his arm around him, pulling him closer. He tugged the blanket up to cover Harry better. He didn't say anything, but his face spoke of sadness. Small lines appeared across his noble forehead, marring the perfection of his pale skin. He always had that look when Harry spoke of the cupboard under the stairs.

 

“There had been a storm, and it woke me up. I tried to be brave and wait it out, but it got worse and worse. I remember thinking that Petunia might let me sleep in their room, just for a night. I knew Dudley would sleep with them when he was scared. So I climbed the stairs, snuck into their room, and carefully tried to wake her up. Dudley was already in between, what was one more? Lightning filled the room, and I panicked. I just jumped up on the bed.” Harry’s voice tapered off as he spoke. He heard a soft hissing sound from Draco.

 

Harry took a deep breath and began again. “You know how well the Dursleys take surprises? That was the first night I was locked in the cupboard.”

 

“How long?” Draco whispered. A small wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose. Harry recognised it as a sign of his husband holding back his temper.

 

“She kept me there for three days.” Harry looked away, suddenly filled with the odd sense of shame he could never put into words. Growing up had taught him that he had nothing to be ashamed of, but some things you carried with you from childhood.

 

Draco carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, gently untangling any knots he came across. Harry stopped looking at the patterns the fire threw across the couch and focused on the other man's face. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

 

Harry's stomach twisted with old humiliation and anger.

 

“This is why I don't talk about it. It was a long time ago, and I'm not that kid anymore.”

 

“Is there more to your dreams?” Draco’s hand was warm and soothing on Harry's hip.

 

Harry sighed and smoothed down the sleep wrinkle lines on Draco’s shirt, feeling the solid warmth of his body under the soft cotton.

 

“When I wake up, I can't tell what the dream is. Am I a wizard? Am I just a kid locked in a closet?” He felt the small pebble of Draco’s nipple under his fingertip and he tugged it teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Am I married to the sexiest bloke in the world?” He heard Draco snort at that, but Harry felt him puff his chest out a bit.

 

“You're an arrogant git, Malfoy.” Harry kissed the side of Draco’s jaw.

 

“Malfoy-Potter.” Draco poked him for dramatic effect.

 

They laughed and settled in against each other. Another burst of thunder made Harry flinch. He smiled crookedly at Draco, trying to disguise the way his heart beat faster.

 

“I hate the Dursley’s. I know they’re your mum’s family, but I’m so glad they missed the wedding.” Draco placed his hand on Harry’s chest.

 

“Yeah, I’m glad they don’t have access to Howlers. Although, I’m surprised they sent anything.” Harry covered Draco’s hand with his own.

 

“Harry, they sent a used jar of jam.” The way Draco’s lip curled back and his right eyebrow raised in distaste made Harry chuckle.

 

“I almost died when your mum insisted we send a thank you card.” Harry leant closer and kissed along Draco’s jaw. Draco moaned, his hands sliding up to Harry’s neck.

 

“Mum hexed it. Their thank you card. Did I forget to tell you?”

 

Harry pulled back. “What? She didn’t!”

 

“She did. Nothing serious, just a minor outbreak of hives. She couldn’t stand how they’ve treated her son-in-law.” Draco brushed his nose against Harry’s. “Let’s stop talking about them and think of a way to make better memories about stormy nights. I happen to love storms.” Draco slid his hand from Harry’s and rucked up the front of Harry’s shirt. He traced lines over Harry’s ribs.

 

“How do we go about doing that, husband?” Warmth spread across Harry’s skin in the wake of Draco’s fingertips.

 

“You’ll have to wait and see, Mr Malfoy-Potter.”

 

Draco pressed his lips against Harry’s. They tasted of chamomile and sleep. Harry opened his mouth, his tongue sliding over Draco’s bottom lip to taste more.

 

“It’s too hot under this blanket,” Harry mumbled against Draco’s mouth.

 

“Sit up.”

 

Harry reluctantly stopped kissing Draco to sit up. He pushed the blanket away.

 

“Take your shirt off. Slowly.” Draco pushed up on his elbow, Harry felt him watching with his storm cloud grey eyes. Draco’s hair, messy from sleep, looked white against the dark brown of their leather couch.

 

Harry rocked his hips forward; he could feel the warmth of the fire baking into his back. Draco’s gaze heated him up an utterly different way. He pulled his shirt up slowly, uncovering skin a little at a time.

 

“C’mon, Potter.” Draco spoke the words curtly, but his eyes held twinkling amusement.

 

The breath in Harry’s chest hitched; he heard his heart beating in his ears. It skipped a beat when Draco grabbed the waistband of his pj's and tugged them down. His knuckle skimmed along his skin, leaving a tingling path in his wake. Draco’s thumbs traced the V of his hips on both sides. Harry felt a surge of lust rush ahead of Draco’s touch to coil in his gut.

 

Harry pulled away from his husband's questing fingertips. “I thought you wanted a show?” His voice thick with arousal.

 

“No, I want to taste you. You’re taking too long. Kneel on the couch, facing the back.” Draco pulled Harry’s pj's off the rest of the way, leaving him completely naked. “I love that you don’t wear pants under these.”

 

Draco’s voice was huskier than usual, sending ripples of lust through Harry’s body. He hesitated as he knelt, the butterflies he felt the first time Draco kissed him always came back when he felt this intimate vulnerability. Harry loved the rush, the feeling of pulling up from a sharp dive on his broomstick, when he would open himself to this man. The act of presenting himself as a lover mirrored itself in his heart, showing all the love he held there for Draco.

 

He knelt on the couch, planting his knees far apart on the cushion. He shivered from the chill and delicious anticipation. Harry gripped the back of the couch and bent forward, arching his back. The heat from the fire made the back of his thighs and curve of his arse hot. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the leather and woodsmoke.

 

Draco ran his fingers down Harry’s spine, then replaced fingertips with the palm of his hand as he caressed the cleft of Harry’s arse. “I love how you look right now. How your back is curved, the way the fire is making your skin glow.”

 

Harry moaned loudly, his fingers digging into the leather, leaving light scratches.

 

The air around Harry changed as Draco stood and leant over him, his long body matching perfectly against Harry’s.

 

“Oh, look at those marks you’ve left on our couch, Harry. I think we should leave them. I wonder if anyone would be able to guess how they came to be?”

 

The tea service clattered and rattled as Draco pushed it aside to sit on the table.

 

“Put your head on the back of the couch, Harry. Hold yourself open for me. Show me where you want me to put my tongue.”

 

Harry’s skin heated, the flush spreading across his cheeks. His cock, which was already hard, throbbed painfully. He reached back, grasped his arse cheeks, and pulled them apart. Harry sensed Draco gaze roaming his body. His lust for Draco permeated his body instantly, collecting in his shaft and rebounding in tingles throughout his body.

 

Fingertips traced around Harry’s hands, then Draco’s hot breath ghosted across the back of his bollocks. He scrunched his eyes closed, mentally trying to guess where Draco would finally touch him.

 

Harry felt the tip of Draco’s tongue, just a hint, a small touch that set off a whole shipment of Fizzing Whizbees in his brain. The slick caress teased along his perineum. Pleasure travelled from that tiny spot up the entire length of his body. He arched his back. He wanted more of that tongue, on much more of his skin.

 

“I love how your hands look, tan against the pale skin of your arse. It reminds me that only I get to see this part of you. It's all mine.” Draco placed a small reverent kiss on Harry’s wedding band, pressing against it.

 

The room filled with light.

 

Harry’s whole body tensed, waiting for the boom of thunder. He held his breath, waiting, flushed with shame. Then Draco’s lips brushed against his arsehole and his tongue flickered out. Harry closed his eyes and moaned, the sound rivalling the thunder rattling the windows.

 

“Fuck! Draco.”

 

Harry’s mind was torn in two, half wanting to curl up and ride the storm out, the other wanting to stretch himself wide open for Draco to see all of him. Draco’s hands slid between his legs, taking over for Harry, holding him open. Harry’s hands travelled up over the ridges of his abs, his left hand mimicking how Draco often tugged the smattering of coarse dark hairs of his chest. His hand came to his right nipple and he pinched it hard. The radiating pleasure from his sensitive nipple ran directly to the aching coil of arousal that pulsed up his shaft. Harry’s right hand palmed his cock, feeling the slickness of his pre-come.

 

Rain pelted the windows; the fire popped and hissed as more water made it’s way down the chimney. Draco kissed Harry softly on his arse cheek, then delivered a sharp bite.

 

“Do you hear the rain?” His voice was so low and raspy, Harry had to concentrate to hear him. “I want to hear you over it.” Draco’s thumbs pressed in as he parted Harry’s cheeks wider. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for what would happen next. Draco’s tongue was a warm press against his furled opening.

 

Harry reached back, grabbed Draco’s hand, and pushed back to meet the tongue that slowly worked him open.

 

“Babe, that feels so bloody amazing.”

 

Draco’s finger pressed against his hole, tracing the rim before pushing in. Harry gasped as the finger pumped slowly in and out. Draco whispered against his skin and added another finger, fucking Harry with them.

 

The sounds of wet skin on skin and moaning became louder than the storm outside. Harry lost track of the rain, his world narrowed to what Draco was doing.   

 

“I’m going to fuck you. Tell me, Harry, how do you want me to do it?”

 

Harry felt slow, the words he wanted seemed distant and thick in his mouth. Draco pressed another finger into him. The sweet burning sensation sharpened and Harry clenched, his body tightening around the digits stretching him.

 

“Shhh, tell me Potter. How do you want me to take you?”

 

Harry’s cock throbbed; he loved when Draco used that tone.

 

“I know you like that. Did you lay in your bed at Hogwarts and wank thinking about how I would say it?” Draco muttered the words against Harry’s sweaty skin; he began scissoring his fingers, teasing and stretching Harry.

 

“I can’t think when you do that,” Harry panted. He stroked his aching shaft once, but Draco stopped him, covering it and his bollocks with his hand. He traced the tip of Harry’s cock with his fingertips, using the wetness he found to paint circles.

 

“Should I stop, then? Because I can. Give you a moment—” More thunder interrupted him. Harry whined as Draco stopped touching him.

 

“Never mind, Potter. Don’t think. I’m going to take you exactly how I want you.”

 

Harry’s eyelashes fluttered for a moment and he glanced back at Draco. The firelight highlighted the angles of his face, softening them. Pale skin took on a soft, warm glow in contrast to the dancing shadows the fire cast.  

 

“I want you on your back, Harry, in front of the fire.” Draco stood and kissed his shoulder. “Give me a moment.”

 

Harry nodded. His sweaty chest  pressed against the leather, but his body was relaxed and tingling with arousal. All of his earlier apprehension was gone. No horrible memories of long ago, just their home filled with warmth and love. The safe place that Harry had always longed for, now completely his.

 

Draco gripped his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. Harry stood, his legs rubber. Their eyes met and Draco’s irises reminded Harry of stormy skies. The love he saw there was fathomless. Harry wanted to fall into them.  

 

His gaze roamed Draco’s body, his messy hair, those perfect lips so plush and red. He leant in, pressing their mouths against each other for a moment before Draco opened and pulled Harry’s lower lip between his. Harry ran his tongue over Draco’s top lip. Draco moaned. Harry could taste himself, a tangy musk, sending blood surging south to his cock. He writhed against the other man. Draco’s silk pants were cool against his heated flesh.

 

He broke the kiss. “Why are you still wearing pants, Malfoy?”

 

Draco raised his eyebrow in challenge. Harry smiled, pushing Draco’s pants down slowly, kneeling with them.

 

“Potter, as much as I love you on your knees worshipping my magnificent prick, I want you over there.” He tilted his head back towards the fire where a pile of blankets lay. Draco’s ability to accio their spare blankets from the linen cupboard impressed Harry. He could summon them with ease, but Draco got them to make a perfect pallet on the floor.  

 

“Magnificent prick? Yes, you are.” His mouth curled.

 

“Haha, hilarious…” Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and tugged.

 

Harry wrapped his hand around the base of Draco’s cock, admired how hard and thick it was in his grip. He licked the vein that ran up the length of the pale shaft. Harry wrapped his mouth around the rosy pink head, tasting salty pre-come. He hollowed his cheeks around the girth. Harry’s lips stretched as he took more. The scent of Draco’s skin surrounded him as he sucked harder.

 

Draco always smelled like wildflowers and potions; sometimes even walking in the garden behind the house made him ache to have his husband.

 

Draco couldn’t form words, only moaning above him. Harry slid his tongue around the saliva slick crown of Draco’s cock before taking him deeper. He wanted to take all of him, to feel the blunt press against the back of this throat. Draco grabbed a handful of his hair and thrust into his mouth, making Harry choke. He looked up at Draco with tears in the corners of his eyes. The man looked wrecked, his bottom lip swollen from biting. Harry used his tongue to tease the underside of Draco’s shaft, watching him gulp for air.

 

“Merlin, Harry, your perfect fucking mouth. I’m not going to last.” Draco’s voice was ragged with pleasure. Harry pulled back, smirking up at Draco. He licked the tip of Draco’s cock, catching the pearly drop of fluid that formed. Harry stroked him, reveling in how hot and hard he was.

 

“I believe you mentioned something about fucking me?” Harry ran his thumb over the head of his cock. “C’mon.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes and shivered. Harry pushed to his feet, his hand still around Draco’s cock. He gently tugged to pull Draco along with him.

 

“Lay down, Harry.” Draco kissed him tenderly, then nudged him towards the pallet.

 

Harry felt those eyes on him, watching as he laid down on the soft, fresh smelling blankets, the fire hot on his left side. The earthy scent of the rain mixed with the smoke and wood of the fire. The covers still smelled of sunshine from the line outside. Harry relaxed his legs, letting them fall open for Draco. He cupped himself with one hand, tugging on his bollocks, his cock leaving a sticky trail across his belly. Harry watched as his husband ran a pale, elegant hand through his white blonde hair. It curled around his ears and Draco fought to keep it out of his eyes.

 

“Stroke your cock for me,” Draco whispered, his eyes ragged with lust, while the storm outside shook the windows. They traced and captured every inch of Harry as he sprawled before Draco. Harry relaxed under that gaze and spread his legs wider.

 

He tilted his head back, watching Draco as he teased up his shaft with his fingertips. When he reached the slick head of his cock, he bit his lip and moaned.

 

“Like this?” Harry ran his palm over the tip, using his pre-come to ease his fist up and down his shaft.

 

“Like this, Harry.” Draco stroked his thick cock. Harry watched Draco’s hand grip firmly and slowly move up and down. His other caressed along the skin of his smooth chest until he found his small pink nipple. Harry mimicked Draco’s movements. He preferred a rougher touch, so he pinched and tugged the small bud. Draco moaned at the sight.

 

Lightning brightened the room again, making Draco look ethereal in the sudden white flash.

 

“I keep forgetting there’s a storm.” Harry huffed a small laugh.

 

“Good. My plan is working.” Draco dropped to his knees and pushed Harry’s hand away. “No more touching. This is mine.” Harry’s eyes dropped to his almost purple cock, a sticky patch forming under it on his stomach.

 

He folded both arms behind his head. Draco picked up a tube of lube that lay hidden in a roll of the blanket.

 

“Not another spell?” Harry smirked as Draco opened the cap.

 

“I can barely remember to breathe, and you want me using magic?” Draco slicked up his cock and ran a slippery thumb over Harry’s opening. He pushed it in slowly, testing to make sure Harry was still ready for him.

 

“Please, no more waiting, I want you inside me.” Harry’s hands felt restless. He slid them down to his chest, teasing his nipples. He pulled his legs up closer to his body and spread them wider. He couldn’t keep still, every sensation felt so strong. The way the different textures of blankets they lay on rubbed against him. The cool satin of one of the decorative couch pillows rubbed against Harry’s neck, making him think of Draco’s silky hair.

 

Draco crawled closer to Harry and nestled between his thighs. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco’s hips.

 

“Pinch your nipples harder. I love it.”

 

Draco rested his left hand on Harry’s hip, his thumb pressing hard, leaving a little red spot.  Harry watched as Draco wrapped his long, elegant fingers around his pink shaft. His eyes followed those fingers as they stroked from base to tip, spreading lube all over. Harry whimpered and fisted the blankets, digging his heel into Draco’s behind.

 

“Babe, hurry up. Stop torturing me… please?” Harry whined.

 

Draco pressed the crown of his cock against Harry’s stretched hole.

 

Every time they were in this position, Draco stared down at his cock with the same expression of wonder, as if he couldn’t believe he was sliding into Harry.

 

“How’s that view?” Harry asked,  breathless. Draco pushed in further, stretching him, filling him. _Finally_.

 

“It’s one of my favourites. I love how you look wrapped around my cock, how you take me.”

 

Draco kept watching as he eased in deeper. He wouldn’t look up until he was completely seated inside of Harry. “You feel so good, Harry. Wrap your legs around me tighter.”

 

Draco leant forward and rested his weight on his forearms, framing Harry’s face. He kissed him lightly, teasingly, his hips still as Harry tightened his grip on Draco’s waist. He shifted, panting as Draco’s cock brushed against his prostate.  

 

“I love you,” Draco said against Harry's open mouth. Before Harry could respond, Draco pressed deeper. Harry gasped at the sensation, the fullness.

 

The fire popped loudly, steam rising from the neatly stacked logs. Harry heard the rain then, pelting the house, but it didn’t matter. He was safe; he was surrounded by Draco, filled with him. They were in their home, and he was protected from everything and everyone. He closed his eyes and kissed Draco’s neck.

 

“I love you, Draco,” he murmured, biting softly.

 

Draco drew back and then pushed, his hips snapping forward. Harry pulled his legs back and hugged his knees to Draco’s waist so he could take more. The angle changed, and Draco grabbed Harry’s hips and jerked him back. Harder and faster. Draco’s cock stroked Harry’s prostate over and over.  

 

He lost the sense of everything around him except the man on top of him. His cock pulsed, the tip leaking more pre-come. Draco bent his head and kissed Harry’s knee, then covered the kiss with a sudden sharp bite.

 

Harry felt the hot coil of his orgasm crash into him, the pain and pleasure mixing together, making him dizzy. His entire body went tight as a spring, spasming around Draco as his bones turned into liquid. His legs fell open, and he cradled Draco’s body with his. His brain struggled to make sense of reality; he had come untouched for the first time.

 

“Fuck, Harry… “ Draco’s voice was filled with wonder. He reached down to stroke Harry's still spurting cock. Harry felt another surge, not as strong as the first but still potent. He arched against Draco. Their bodies, covered in a sheen of sweat, slid against each other easily.  Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders and dug his fingers into his soft skin. He tilted his pelvis forward, meeting each thrust.

 

“Come for me. Please. I want to feel you.”

 

Harry slipped his fingers into Draco’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. He traced the seamof Draco’s mouth with his warm tongue. Draco opened, and their tongues twirled around each other. They broke apart, panting. Harry cried out as Draco’s thrusts came harder and faster, the rhythm shifting and losing the controlled precision.

 

“Mon Coeur, oh… Harry.” Draco’s voice hitched as he chanted Harry’s name. Harry could feel Draco’s cock thicken, stretching him just a bit more. His blunt nails dragged up the length of Draco’s back

 

“Draco…” Harry punctuated the name with a sharp snap of his hips.

 

Draco stiffened and sobbed against Harry’s mouth. Harry imagined he could taste the pleasure that Draco felt as he shivered against him. The pulsing warmth of Draco’s release filled him.

 

They continued to kiss softly for several minutes. Draco pulled out slowly and carefully. He collapsed beside Harry.

 

“Apple or lavender?” Harry searched for a wand among the blankets and then held it up like a prize.

 

“Lavender. Your apple is too sweet smelling.” Draco stretched as he spoke. Harry muttered a cleaning spell and suddenly the sharp scent of lavender filled the room, leaving behind clean, tingling, pink skin. Draco tugged an old brown wool afghan over them.

 

“I hope it rains all weekend,” Harry mused quietly, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder.

 

Draco traced the shadow of raindrops the street light cast on Harry’s chest with a lazy fingertip.

 

“Want to go to the Muggle cafe in the morning?”

 

“It is morning.” Harry yawned. “We should go upstairs and go to bed.”

 

“You first.” Draco picked up Harry’s hand,threaded their fingers together, and laid them on his chest.

 

“I can’t walk. You broke me. Carry me upstairs.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand, curling towards him so he could rest his head next to their clasped hands.

 

“The saviour of the wizarding world is bowlegged on a Saturday. I should alert the Daily Prophet.”

 

“You’re a prick, Malfoy.” Harry kissed Draco’s pale chest, then sucked a bruise over the spot he kissed, finishing the mark with a sharp bite.

 

“You love my prick, Potter. I know.” Draco’s voice was breathless with amusement.

 

“Stop talking. I hate you.” Harry tried to say it with a straight face but the smile began at the corners of his mouth and then erupted into a happy grin.

 

“You love me. C’mon. Upstairs with you, or no breakfast for you later.”

 

Harry sat up and looked down at Draco. “You would let the saviour of the wizarding world starve after wringing multiple orgasms out of him?”

 

Draco laughed as Harry stood and walked, a little more bowlegged than usual, to the stairs. Thunder sounded once more, but Harry just turned and smiled at Draco.

 

“I like making new memories with you.”

 

Draco climbed to his feet, stretched his long body, and strolled towards Harry. He did it with a sway that he knew drove Harry crazy.

 

“We can make more memories upstairs. Let’s open the window by the bed and let rain in.” He pressed his forehead against Harry’s. “I want to give you so many good memories you don’t remember the bad. I know it’s impossible, but I still want to try.”

 

Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs.

 

“Ever since that first kiss, Draco, all my memories of you have been good ones. But rain sex is a memory I need to have. Let’s go.”

 

They walked naked down their hallway in the dark, laughing when they heard the crack of Kreacher arriving downstairs, mumbling about the mess. There was the boom of thunder,  a startled squeak, and then the clang of metal as the house elf dropped the tea tray.

 

Draco glanced back towards the stairs. Harry saw a brief flash of hope flutter across his husband's features, a smile curling his mouth as the cracking of ceramics echoed up the stairs.

 

“Don’t worry, Master Draco! Kreacher can fix your favourite mug.”

 

“Oh, bloody hell.” Draco’s stuck out his lower lip in an entirely unbelievable pout. Harry leant closer and nipped the plump lip.

 

“C’mon, bed. Now.” Harry nuzzled Draco’s barely bristly cheek and gently pushed him towards their room.

 

The house elf's mutterings floated up to them as he moved around downstairs. “Kreacher always fixes and finds Master Draco’s favourite mug. Oh yes, even when he is forgetful and leaves it in the bin.”

 

Harry sputtered laughter, which made Draco chuckle.

 

When they reached their room, Draco waved his wand towards the steel grey damask drapes with little silver dragons that matched the Malfoy coat of arms. The curtains parted and Draco cast a protective spell over the furniture and floor. He opened the window a little and the sound of rain filled the room.

 

Harry pulled the covers down.

 

“Kreacher deserves a raise.” Harry set his glasses and wand on his bedside table and climbed into toasty warm sheets. His body felt cocooned in cosy clouds.

 

“Last time we tried to pay him at all, he didn’t speak to us for a month and he burnt every meal,” Draco mused as he walked into the loo. Harry heard the sound of water filling a cup and a particular brush running through a certain peacock’s perfect hair.

 

“Really, babe? You’re just going to mess it up again while you sleep.” Harry rolled over onto his stomach and stretched his arms under his pillow. His eyes felt heavy as he listened to the rain splashing up against the protective spells.

 

“My hair never get’s messed up while I sleep Potter.”

 

“Oh, Merlin’s beard. Did you put a spell on your pillow? I knew you were weird about that thing. Your vanity knows no bounds.” Harry raised up a bit so he could throw the pillow, which had a dramatic silver D embroidered on it, towards the loo door. He plopped back down and snuggled into his own, unembroidered pillow.

 

Draco strode naked into their bedroom, his hair perfectly brushed. He stooped to pick up his pillow. Harry blinked and tried to open his eyes wider, but they wanted to close.

 

“I won’t have you malign my poor pillow with your slanderous words.” Draco sighed softly. “Are you still awake?”

 

“S’wake. Come to bed, I’m lonely.” Harry patted the spot where Draco’s pillow usually sat and closed his eyes for a moment.

 

“Goodnight, Mon Coeur.” Draco’s voice was soft and filled with love. Harry treasured that particular timbre, reserved only for him.

 

“When did you get into the bed?” Harry raised his heavy head and moved to rest it on Draco’s chest.

 

“About fifteen minutes ago. You dozed off mid disagreement about my pillow.” Draco’s voice rumbled under Harry’s ear. “Listen to the rain, Harry. I love you for every drop of rain. When it storms again, remember that.” Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, hugging him close.

 

Harry opened his eyes wide and exhaled. “Thank you, Draco.”

 

His whole body relaxed into the warmth of his husband and their bed. He let the feelings of home and safety wash over him. He listened to the steady beat of Draco’s heart and closed his eyes. He drifted to sleep surrounded by the sound of the rain and  Draco’s constant, amazing love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! *waves* If you want to see a bunch of posts about Johnlock, Drarry, knitting and tombstones. Come by my Tumblr and check it out!
> 
> [Me on Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/misocrickette)


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